Duet
by BulletBlaze
Summary: Lydia is going to kill him if he's even a second later than he already is. Or, how Stiles' extreme lack of money, time, and grace somehow lands him a date with his favorite author's brother.


Stiles was late, he was so fucking late, and oh god, Lydia was going to kill him, like literally murder him; she was going to cut off and choke him with his own balls, that's how late he was.

But, he thought, standing in the winding line of the far too crowded coffee shop, it would be totally worth it. He had just paid $25 to wait in line and get his favorite book signed by his favorite author, and nothing Lydia would do could possibly dampen the mood of getting the Laura Hale's signature on the inside cover of her newest mystery novel. Nothing. In. Hell.

At least, that's what he kept telling himself as the minutes ticked by and the line hadn't moved forward at all. Stiles was a ball of excited and nervous energy, bouncing on the balls of his feet and constantly looking around to the front of the line to try and tell if they were going to move it along any time soon.

Yeah, going by the flirty stances of both barista and customer, he wouldn't be getting his coffee for a while.

Finally, Stiles got aggravated enough that he just decided to get the hell out of there. He'd survive without coffee for one day.

Doubtful, his mind whispered. He ignored it.

Huffing loudly one last time to make sure everyone knew how annoyed he was, Stiles spun on his heel and took a step towards the door.

And ran into a brick wall.

Looking up from the floor, Stiles saw the man he had run into glaring down at him with eyes that looked…

Murderous. That's the word he was looking for. Definitely not beautiful or breathtaking or angelic or dazzling.

Yeah. Definitely none of those.

Those murderous eyes were staring into his soul with a bone deep hatred that for a moment made Stiles fear for his life, until he remember that Murder Eyes probably wouldn't strangle him in the middle of a crowded shop.

Probably.

Stiles scrambled to his feet and straightened out his clothes, thankful now that he didn't have a coffee, because he would surely be wearing it right about now if he had already gotten one, just like Murder Eyes was, and-

Oh.

"Shit. Oh my god, I'm so sorry, shit, um. I can pay for your coffee." Just barely. "And however much it'll cost to get that out of your jacket." He definitely couldn't. "I'll, I'll pay for everything, I swear!"

Maybe after a few weeks of not eating, anyway.

Murder Eyes finally, blessedly, relinquished his hold on Stiles' eyes and looked down to his coffee and his jacket and his sopping wet book-

Oh. Double shit.

"Fucking hell. Yeah, I don't have enough money on me right now to buy you a new one." A thought struck Stiles, a thought that he absolutely despised, but there was nothing else he could do.

Reaching in his bag, Stiles gently pulled out his brand new copy of 'The Void' and reluctantly held it out to Murder Eyes. "Here, have mine. I already got it signed, so you don't have to wait through the line again or anything."

Stiles lowered his eyes in embarrassment, but after a moment he raised them back up, confused when the guy didn't take the inadequate peace offering. When their gazes met again, Stiles saw that Murder Eyes' stare was… Slightly less murderous. Sort of.. soft, actually.

"Uhh" Stiles said, probably sounding incredibly intelligent. "Crap! Let me get you some napkins! Just one second, I'll be right back!"

When Stiles returned from stumbling off in the direction of the counter, where the line still hadn't moved, Softer Eyes had taken off his intimidating leather jacket. Stiles was thankful, because now that he didn't look like a biker nor a murderer, a murderous biker, he actually looked… vaguely approachable. He had a soft maroon Henley on, his stubble seemed a bit less stark somehow, and his stance wasn't as overall imposing as it had been before.

Stiles held up the napkins and gestured to SE's jacket. "Do you want me to or..?" With the slight lift of one of those bushy eyebrows, he clearly conveyed that no, he did not want Stiles anywhere near his jacket, ever. "Right. Sorry. Uh, I'm Stiles by the way." The man didn't seem to care as he reached over and gently snatched- which, how can you do that?- the napkins out of Stiles' hand, using them to dab at the dribbles of coffee cascading down the sleek material. That jacket probably cost more than Stiles' health and auto insurance. Combined.

Once SE had gotten as much coffee cleaned off as he could, he tossed the napkins in the garbage along with his empty cup and returned to Stiles, who smiled sheepishly, gulped, and held out his book once more.

SE sighed and said, "I'm Derek. And you don't have to give me your book."

His voice wasn't as deep as Stiles was expecting, but that didn't surprise him as much as what Derek had said.

"What? Of course I do! Dude, I know how much these things cost and I just ruined yours, plus this is the only day the author's gonna be here before she leaves again, so you might not get another chance."

"You said you didn't have money on you to get another. If I take yours, you won't be able to have one. A signed one, anyway."

Stiles nodded sadly, "Yeah well, that's my own fault. Just take it? Please? Before I decide to be a horrible person and keep it to myself?"

Derek chuckled, a small smile touching the corners of his lips and tugging. "I don't need another one. I already have a copy at home."

"But not a signed copy! And that's what you were here for, wasn't it? To get a signed copy?"

Rolling his eyes, Derek answered, "Yes, but it was for my friend. And I can get one signed whenever I want, I just decided to see what one of these events was like."

Stiles was confused now, for multiple reasons. "How… How can you get one signed anytime? Are you a stalker or something, following Laura Hale around and making her sign all these books so that you can sell them and earn money to buy more badass leather jackets?"

"...No."

"Then how-"

"Der Bear! What are you still doing here? Were you waiting around for me? Awe, I'm going to pretend you were, that's so sweet! Hey, who's this? You were in line earlier, right? One of the first, actually."

Stiles stared in awe at Laura freaking Hale, who was currently draped over Derek's back, arms hugging his chest.

With a smirk, Derek stated, "This is Stiles, he spilled coffee on me. Stiles, this is Laura. My sister."

Stiles gaped.

"Awe, he's cute Der. And just your type, too! You should keep him," Laura teased, winking at Stiles. Derek blushed and shoved Laura off of his back gently.

"What are you even doing over here?" he muttered. "Shouldn't you be inflicting terror upon unsuspecting fans or something?"

"I'm taking a break while the line is shorter, just for a few minutes. I've been sitting there for hours, Der. Hours."

"You've been there for one hour," corrected Derek with a look of annoyed fondness on his face. It was an oddly nice look on him.

It was just then that Laura noticed Derek clutching one of her books, and that it was stained and wet. She grabbed it and inspected the damage, tutting disapprovingly.

"Was that the one for Isaac? Here, gimme a sec and I'll go grab a new one." With that she turned and walked back to the table.

Stiles was still gaping, and Derek smirked again. "Told you I could get a new one whenever I wanted."

When Laura came back with a new book a few seconds later, Stiles was finally shaking himself out of his stupor.

He and Laura shook hands without the formality of a desk between them, getting a proper introduction. After that, she had to go back to the table, which she complained quietly yet dramatically about, and left them alone again.

Clearing his throat, Stiles said, "So how much do I owe you for the jacket? I can give you my number and you could bill me for it if you don't want to-"

"Do you wanna have coffee with me?" Derek interrupted nervously.

"Wha-? You.. You want to have coffee? With me? The guy who just killed your jacket and made a total fool out of himself? For real?" Stiles was honestly flabbergasted. Suitably flabbergasted, that was Stiles. Flabbergasted af.

Derek shuffled his feet slightly and scratched a hand through his stubble. "Unless you don't want to, which is totally fine-"

"No no no! That's definitely not what I meant! Um, I would love to have coffee with you! Whenever, uh, works for you? Works for me. Yeah."

The nervous look on Derek's face was replaced with an amused smile that made Stiles smile, and soon they were both just a big blushing mess of smiles.

It was awesome.

"Is now too desperate?" he asked.

Stiles thought about how Lydia was going to kill him either way by now, so he didn't feel too bad replying, "Now is perfect, actually." Instead, he felt a bud of excited anticipation start to grow in his gut, feeling as if this might turn out to be something special.

If Lydia actually did kill him, Stiles thought happily as they left the coffee shop over four hours later, he thinks he just might be okay with it. However, going by the blushing way Derek asks him out on a second date and gives Stiles his phone number, he just might not.


End file.
